Stereotype
by PoisonBones
Summary: Ozai's thoughts concerning the day he first met Ursa, their wedding night, and the night after her banishment and his coronation. Ozai-centric, no true pairings, rated T for some mild adult content.


**This is just a little idea I had when I was reading The Search. Takes place the day Ozai first met Ursa (I write their meeting differently, just cause I don't like the way the original authors did it), their wedding night, and the night after Ursa's banishment. I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. If I did the world would be a better place.  
-PoisonBones**

Ozai had never really understood the oddness of arranged marriage. Yes, it was to appoint healthy young that were fit for royalty and to keep the bloodline pure, but the choosing of such a thing troubled him. It was rather rattling, his father simply lined the young women up and said 'Yup, I like this one' and then she was shoved into the carriage beside him. She was fragile looking, clearly one of the youngest girls, no older than seventeen. Father told him that her name was Ursa, and that they would be wed in one week. Ozai scowled irritably at the wall when that information met his ears. Eighteen years old, a responsible adult by his nations standards, and he was being married off like a peasant, to a girl who looked as though she was about to cry.

To be honest, it was not the fact that he was being married off that made him angry; it was that any heir this girl would produce would be in vain. Lu Ten would ascend the throne anyways; Ozai did not understand the need for his immediate marriage. He really wished he could just wait, maybe not even marry at all. But that was against his father's wishes, and you did not disobey the firelord, father or not. What was there to say?

A prince's life is the life of a stereotype.  
-

At first, Ursa sat as far away from Ozai as possible.

Then someone spiked the celebratory tea.

Ozai found himself a bit lightheaded after a drink or two. Ursa had several more than that, and now she was comfortably leaning into his side, fiddling with the royal collar on her dress. It was late; the guests had all trickled out, leaving only the royal family in the sitting room, laying about in awkward silence.

Iroh, who had begun to look anxious, sat up, "Well, I will be retiring now. Goodnight."

The whole rest of the family followed, leaving Ozai to stand abruptly, causing Ursa to fumble a bit, before regaining her composure. He turned to leave, when he heard a deep sigh.

Ozai looked back. Ursa was looking around the room in a daze of melancholy. He reached for the door handle again, before stopping and looking back at her. He couldn't just leave her there could he? She was half _drunk _for spirits sake!

….And that's how it happened. That is how Ozai, second prince of the fire nation, first came to bed his wife. He had pulled her back to the room they would now be sharing for their lifetime, she had stripped herself of her clothing, and he had leapt upon her like a horned stag. They were now laying side by side, her head cradled on his shoulder. Ozai had enjoyed it, though he could not particularly say that she had. He had heard that a girls first time was often quite painful, and he looked upon her several times through the experience to see her grimacing in discomfort.

He could not bring himself to feel bad for her.

Not then, when she was physically hurting, and not the next morning when the maids had cleared away the bloody sheets that proved her innocence up until that night.

Then the proof came.

The servants made small remarks behind his back, the maids smirked deviously. Even Iroh teased him at the tea table. Ozai had fulfilled his father's wishes. He had married a beautiful woman, and he had spilled his seed in her. Ursa became pregnant with their first child on their wedding night, an achievement in his father's eyes. The perfect second prince, a pretty spouse and a quick heir. What was there to say?

A prince's life is the life of a stereotype.  
-

Ozai had forgotten what it was like to lay alone.

It had been eleven years since Ozai had last been gifted with a bed all to himself, now it just felt wrong, very wrong. It was if the bed was too large for him, too wide and long. The comforters seemed to swallow him, and he sank into the feather mattress far too easily. Ozai found himself performing childish acts in an attempt to fill the room, such as lying in the middle and stretching out his limbs in order to take up empty space, to no avail. He ended up flinging the covers over his head and curling into a ball under the blankets, appearing from the outside to simply be a rather large lump in the center of the bed.

Zuko had cried when he had heard the news of his mother's disappearance. Ozai had felt no sympathy for the boy though, having fallen into the practice of 'hateful father' that he had promised Ursa all those years ago. Ozai couldn't quite put his finger on why he had come through with that promise, it wasn't like he cared what she wanted or thought, and still, he had done everything in his power so far in order to fulfill her wishes. He didn't exactly regret it though. Zuko was too soft for a child of the royal family, his fire bending too weak, and his academic advancements were a thing to shame. Princes were supposed to be fierce, powerful, and relentless. Like he was to be.

Father had always pressured him harder, and spoke down to him verbally.

"Try harder!"

"Sit still and say nothing, or I will make you regret it."

"You're a failure!"

"You will never get it right!"

"_Why can't you be more like your brother?"_

Those words had always stung the most. Of course, be like Iroh, the perfect brother. Not even that would have made him proud.

Maybe this would make his father proud, even in death. Ozai would rule above his brother, with an iron fist. He would win this war, and he would show no mercy. He would find the Avatar, wherever he may be, and he would end him. Just like he was expected too. What was there to say?

A prince's life is the life of a stereotype.


End file.
